


Black Market Baby

by sabinelagrande



Series: Black Market Baby [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Competence Kink, F/M, First Time, James Rhodes Is a Good Bro, James Rhodes: Voice of Reason, Just Forget The Words And Sing Along, Misunderstandings, Obadiah Is A Creeper, Possessive Behavior, Tony is an asshole, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's money buys him way more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's done this kind of thing before.

Spend enough time in Vegas when you're Tony Stark, and it'll happen eventually. Somebody will have a party for somebody else and a specific kind of girl will show up. They're friendly and attentive, with a particular kind of reserve not shown by the random girl looking for a party and a fuck. They don't drink all the booze, which puts them pretty high up on Tony's list to start with, they laugh at jokes even when they're not funny, and then all of a sudden they're gone, slipped off with someone, extremely unlikely to return. They've slipped off with Tony more than a couple of times, and until such a day as one of them sells the story to the Enquirer, they're probably just gonna keep slipping off with him.

Tony can have all the women he wants, but there's something about a professional. It's almost relaxing.

He's never actually propositioned one outright, never done anything past waiting around for the 'for X dollars I can rock your world' that comes at the end of the evening. He thinks about it, though, wonders how it would go down; it's just that he knows himself well enough to know that wondering is a look that never lasts on him. If he wonders about something, it's only ever a question of how long it'll take before he does it.

So he does it.

He knows a guy who knows a guy who knows some girls, and he has JARVIS make a call, and then he has an appointment, just like that, and the only part he feels bad about is corrupting JARVIS. He's just a kid, after all, and for all that he knows what his creator gets up to, some things might be a bridge too far. Then again, he doesn't think they can arrest an AI for solicitation, so JARVIS is really just going to have to suck it up.

"Sir, your guest has arrived," JARVIS says that night, interrupting Tony from the journal article he's been reading for kicks, scribbling notes in the margins about what a fucking idiot the author is.

"What time is it?" Tony asks.

"Precisely eight-thirty PM," JARVIS says; he has that note in his voice that Tony swears he didn't program in, the one that sounds satisfied when things run on schedule.

"Standard scans," Tony says.

"She appears to be carrying no weapons, sir, apart from pepper spray."

"Let her in and lead her to the lounge," Tony says, standing up and cracking his neck, setting his journal page-down on the end table. He wonders briefly if he should freshen up or something, even though the most demanding thing he's done all day is cackle at what passes for genius in physics and engineering these days.

Then he remembers he's paying an insane amount of money so that he _won't_ have to impress anyone.

When he gets to the lounge, a woman is standing there, looking at one of the paintings. She's not exactly dressed as he would have expected; Tony expected at least a little bit of leopard print, but there is not a spot to be found. She's wearing a sexy but tasteful green dress, one that accentuates her curves but doesn't scream 'look at my ass.' Her clutch matches the dress, and the strappy off-white heels fill out the ensemble nicely. She looks like she's here for a classy cocktail party rather than a very adult sleepover.

"Name?" he says, by way of greeting, and she turns, clearly unsurprised by his presence; the dress is cut down to bejesus, which makes a little more sense.

"Pepper," she says, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Stark."

As silly hooker names go, it's not bad; it could have been Cristal or Porsche or Mystique. Tony looks her up and down, and oh yeah, he has no problem at all with what he sees. "Why'd they send you in particular?"

She holds her bag in front of her with both hands, looking demure. "We make an attempt to match our clients' personalities and tastes, insofar as we know them," she says, in an efficient tone that doesn't match the rest of her. Tony has no idea if she's being honest or not; for as much as he's paying, he'd like a little consideration, but with these results, he's not sure he cares.

"Tall, redheaded, slender, slightly distant," he muses. "I don't know what that's supposed to say about me, but I like it."

"I don't have to be distant," she tells him, stepping closer and giving him a very effective come-hither look.

"Seductive does look good on you," he says, talking mostly to her tits. "Though distant was working too. You seem flexible."

Pepper frowns. "I'm honestly not sure if you want me to make a pun or not."

"Neither am I," he says. "Come on." He starts off through the house, and she hurries to follow him, her heels clicking against the floor. "I get this feeling we're supposed to have awkward conversation or meaningful personal revelations or stiff drinks or something."

"We can have whatever you want," she assures him.

"I want copious amounts of wild sex," he says. "Physically demanding sex. Sore-the-next-day sex."

"Then that's what we'll have, Mister Stark."

"Tony," he says over his shoulder. "It's Tony."

"Tony," she repeats. "I'm here for whatever you want."

"I want to fuck you," he tells her.

"Then fuck me," she says, like she's challenging him to do it. Maybe they've got his number a little bit better than he thought, because if there are two things in this world that Tony loves, they are sex and challenges.

"I had the money transferred to your bank," Tony says.

"I received notification," she says. "Thank you for your generosity."

"Pretty sure you're the one being generous here," he replies. "Then again, some people would consider it a privilege to sleep with me. So it's entirely possible that you're getting your money for nothing and your kicks for free."

He makes it to the door of his bedroom, stepping through; as soon as she's inside, he shuts the door, pushing her up against it, taking her purse out of her hand and tossing it away. He leans in to kiss her, but he stops himself. "Are you one of those 'not on the mouth' girls?"

"At these prices, I'll put my mouth on anything you please," she tells him, smiling wryly. He laughs in surprise, lacing his hand in her hair and kissing her hard. She puts her knee in between his, and he's content to just grind on her for a minute, enjoying himself, getting ready for what they're actually here for.

He lets her go, stepping away. "If you're so sure you know what I like, then what do I want?"

She pushes him backwards. "Get on the bed and I'll show you."

He grins, letting her guide him back, falling onto the bed when he gets there, legs spread, propped up on his elbows. It's his best 'please ravish me at your nearest convenience' look; just because she's a hooker doesn't mean he's not concerned with being as fuckable as possible.

She drops to her knees between his legs and slides her hands up his thighs and onto his cock, fuck the prelude, and maybe she does know what he wants. He's already good to go, and it only gets better and worse when she runs her hands along the length of him, firm pressure for him to grind up against. He wants her to stop fucking around and get on with it; he also really really wants her to keep fucking around for as long as possible.

When he almost can't take it anymore, she unzips him, pulling down his pants a little so she can take hold of his cock- underwear seemed like waste of time on a day like this. She strokes him quickly, just a little to get him ready, and it's not that he's not ready for her to put his dick in her mouth- he is, he really is, he has been for like two hours now- it's just that he couldn't possibly be prepared for what it feels like. It's hot and wet and soft and everything, but then she starts actively sucking him off, and _holy fucking shit_. She knows exactly what she's doing, every trick in the book, handling him like it's second nature, like there's no doubt in her mind as to how to take him apart. Her mouth is some kind of fucking gift from God, and Tony thinks maybe he should build some kind of cocksucking shrine just so he can put her in the middle of it.

This is already worth every single penny he paid.

He's aware that he's talking, but he's not entirely sure what he's saying- previous experience tells him it's probably along the lines of, "Fuck fuck fuck God shit fuck don't stop"- but it doesn't matter, it _so_ doesn't matter. Nothing matters except her mouth, how fucking perfect she is, right on the dot right from the get-go. He never even knew he had a thing for that, for laser precision, total control, but apparently he's got a damn big one.

He reaches out with one hand, flailing a little before he finds the back of her head. He doesn't want to push, because just because she's a prostitute doesn't mean he should be an asshole, but he ends up holding her down anyway when he comes, deep in her mouth as he can get, moaning loudly enough that it would be embarrassing if he were even remotely able to give a fuck.

He turns her loose, smoothing her hair down apologetically; she doesn't seem particularly fazed by Tony's treatment, just licks her lips and sits back on her heels. "I thought you wanted to fuck me," she says, sounding faintly amused.

"Want to, going to," he tells her, a little out of breath. "You ambushed me. That was ambush head. Doesn't count."

"We don't have to keep score," she says.

"Oh, we're keeping score," he says. "We're definitely keeping score." He pulls his pants up, tucking his cock away and zipping up. "Lose the dress and get me a scotch on the rocks." He looks at her consideringly. "In that order, and keep the heels on."

She stands up, turning away from him and lifting her hair. "Unzip me?" she asks; they both know perfectly well she could do it herself, but there's something about the gesture, the excuse it gives him to put his hands on her curves, tracing them through the material. He actually does unzip the dress, eventually, and she lets it fall around her feet. She's wearing very appropriate inappropriate lingerie, classic black, panties with those silly little ties on the sides, bows just begging to be pulled. She turns towards him, giving him a little bit of a show; the bra is a match, the whole thing very carefully calculated to be as teasing as possible without actually showing anything- he can't even see the barest bit of nipple.

"You're good," Tony says.

"I aim to please," Pepper says, stepping out of the dress and walking towards the bar. Tony kicks the dress out of the way, turning to watch her walk, and if he didn't already have a thing for high heels, this moment would definitely give him one. Jesus goddamn she looks good, her ass shaking ever so slightly as she walks. He severely laments the fact that everything she needs is sitting on the top of the bar; he's going to hide everything underneath it next time, just to see her bend over and get it.

There's definitely going to be a next time. That is no longer a question.

She takes one of the rocks glasses and drops a few pieces of ice into it with the tongs, picking up the decanter and splashing some liquor over the ice. She holds up the glass for his inspection, and he raises an eyebrow. "Fill that up," he says, kicking off his shoes and sitting up against the headboard. "I don't drink for fun." She looks amused, but she takes him at his word, bringing the glass over and putting it in his outstretched hand. He takes a sip, motioning her over, and good Lord, she gets on the bed and crawls towards him, coming to sit by his side.

"Is this the part with the stiff drinks?" she asks.

"This?" he says, holding it up. "This isn't a stiff drink. I'd need a bigger glass for it to really be stiff." He holds up a hand. "On that one we can definitely skip the innuendo, it's way too easy to be worth it."

"Noted," she says, curling her legs up underneath her and leaning into his side. He puts his arm around her, offering her a sip of his scotch, but she shakes her head; more for him.

"I honestly don't know what we're supposed to talk about, if there's supposed to be meaningful conversation," Tony says.

"You said you wanted wild sex," Pepper reminds him.

"Give a guy a minute to recharge," he chides.

"I don't think you'd want to talk about the weather or the stock market," she says.

"The weather is definitely boring this time of year," he says. "Love the stock market though. Can't get enough of it." He points at her with his glass. "This is because SI went up today. Next week it's entirely possible I'll hate it."

"Perfectly understandable," she says. 

"Still, intensely boring to talk about, past 'We are good at it today,'" Tony confirms. "I don't know what you want to talk about. Other than sleeping with influential men and shopping for extraordinarily nice underwear, what _do_ you do with your time?"

"I read," she says.

"Oh," he replies, a little surprised. "I don't. I mean, I don't read anything you'd read, unless you're deeply involved in the scientific community."

"Can't say I am," she says. "The last thing I read was _The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time_."

"See, I know that that's a book," he says. "I'm doing good to know that."

"It's a step," she tells him. She turns towards him, crawling into his lap; she takes his drink out of his hand, setting it on the nightstand. "Let's not talk about books," she says, leaning in, close enough that there's nothing in his vision but her, her hair falling down around his face and blocking the light.

"Nothing to talk about," he agrees, straining up towards her. "No reason to talk at all." He moves down the headboard a little. "Kneel up."

She does it, bracing herself on the headboard, and yes, good, this is a great spot for him to be, absolutely excellent. He pulls the ridiculous bows at her hips out with his teeth, one after the other; when the panties don't flutter off as expected, he bites the waistband, pulling the whole thing away and spitting it out. He puts his hands on her thighs, spreading her out with his thumbs, and there, that's what he wanted, just perfect. She's already so wet, heat coming off her, and Tony feels endlessly triumphant about that, that of all the women in the world, this one's getting off on him, on his cock in her mouth, on the wonderful thing that is Tony Stark.

No applause, just throw money.

Before he can something incredibly stupid to this effect, he leans in and licks her, flicking his tongue over her clit. She moans low, the good kind, the kind that's not theatrical, and Tony feels the headboard move as she lets it take her weight. She's going to need the support, because he's not going to stop, not until she comes on his face; then he's just going to pull her down on him and fuck her hard, so she better not tire herself out.

He does expect some restraint on her part, a little bit of humoring, letting him get his fill of this while checking her watch, but that is exactly the opposite of what he gets. Pepper grinds herself against his tongue, making desperate noises as he drives her crazy with his mouth, licking and sucking. He's a man on a mission here, and he's not going to stop until she gives it up for him.

By the noises she's making, she's close, very close, and Tony doesn't let up, pushing his fingers inside of her and fucking her with them; he can feel the moment when she comes, the way she clenches hard around him, and that's it, considerate and impressive time is over, Tony fucking time starts now.

He pushes her backwards, and she ends up in his lap, looking at him with slightly glassy eyes. He devours her lips, pulling her hard against him, his hands on her everywhere. "Too many clothes," he says impatiently, only getting a few of his shirt buttons undone before he just pulls it over his head and throws it away; he doesn't even get that far on his pants, unzipping them and shoving them down before he gets his hands on her again. He kisses her wildly over and over, unable to get enough of her lips. 

She pulls back for the briefest of moments, grabbing one of the condoms from the nightstand and tearing it open, rolling it onto his cock before she sinks down around him, and he all but goes cross-eyed from the pleasure of it. "Fuck me," he says through clenched teeth as she starts to ride him. His hands find her ass, helping her along. "Christ, fuck me hard."

"Uh huh," she says, nodding her head, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Give it to me, Tony, please-"

It's loud and it's hard and it's incoherent on both sides, pure and mindless, bodies moving together. There's nothing like the heat of her body, the need that's just about to kill him. She moves her hips just right, still completely on point despite the fact that this is wild, feral, out-of-bounds; Tony comes and it's a shame, a sin, perfection.

She moves on him for a few moments longer, groaning and sighing, before she collapses onto him, clinging slightly. It takes a long time for their breathing to level out, for either of them to be at the point of speaking. 

"We're not done here, if you were wondering," Tony says hoarsely. "I haven't even seen your tits."

"Say the word," she tells him.

"Don't rush me," he chides, kissing down her neck.

\--

When he wakes up in the morning, sunlight is streaming through the windows. "Window tint at fifty percent, JARVIS," he says, and the lights dim. Pepper is still there, dressed again, standing in front of his CD cabinet, moving something to a different shelf; Tony rolls out of bed and pads up behind her, curious. "What are you doing in there?" he says, nudging her out of the way with his hip. He stares at the cabinet. "You reorganized my CD collection."

"You were asleep," she says, "and you did pay for the whole night."

"I paid for sex, not organization," he points out. He frowns, looking at the cases in annoyance. "Everything is all in the wrong-" He stops. "Huh."

"What?"

"Everything is exactly where I meant to put it," he says, confused.

"Genre, artist, year, alphabetical, with compilation albums last," Pepper recites.

There's a possibility he's let some kind of witch into his house. "How did you-"

She smiles. "There's a note on the inside of the cabinet."

"There is?" he says, opening the cabinet door and peering at it. "I should really automate this."

"It says that on the note too." She kisses his cheek. "It's time for me to go."

"See you when I see you," he says, trying to sound noncommittal, and she smiles, looking smug. He watches as she walks away, wondering what the hell just happened, all of it.

Tony doesn't make it three days before he calls back.


	2. Chapter 2

Soon she's there three nights a week, four, spends more time in his house than out of it. She costs plenty, but he's Tony damn Stark, and he can do math very well, thank you. His discretionary income is higher than the GDP of several small nations, and if he wants a high-priced hooker in his bed every night he can have her, no question.

In his bed she's some kind of amazing devil woman who can take him apart as soon as look at him; out of it, she's kind of fascinating, hard to read, cryptic, very polite and friendly, good to go. He can't tell if she likes him or not, which really just makes him want to chase her down and find out, find out every little thing that makes her tick.

He thinks she might like him at least a little, because she does weird, considerate things for him when he's asleep, random things he didn't know he wanted someone to do- sorts his shoes, finds him a new box of tissues for the long-empty dispenser on the nightstand. One day she even sweet-talks JARVIS into letting her access his schedule; he's really pissed off, despite the fact that she's under about a billion NDAs and hasn't gotten anywhere close to anything even remotely sensitive. Then he realizes that that he's apparently been double-booked in three places, and she's fixed them all without even calling anyone.

"You said you wanted tomorrow night," Pepper says when he finds out, completely unapologetic. "I was making sure it was on your schedule."

"Do you just get really bored when I leave you alone?" Tony asks, frowning contemplatively at her.

"I'm here to do what you want," she tells him.

"What if I didn't want you to read my mind?" he challenges.

"I'm not a mind reader, Tony," she says.

"Lies," he tells her, dragging her close and kissing her. "Blatant lies. You probably already know what I'm thinking right now."

She smiles. "I don't have to read your mind to know that," she says. 

"I do make it fairly obvious," he agrees. "Obvious just gets me what I want faster."

"Then come on, and I'll give you want you want," she tells him.

"Yes, ma'am," he purrs, grabbing her ass and pulling her tight against him.

In the end he lets it go on, lets her do for him, because he has no idea what to think about it. Honestly, he has no idea what to think about her at all, about her place in his life, about the thing that he's doing, spending this insane amount of money so that she'll keep coming back and back and back.

Mostly he thinks that it's entirely possible that there's no giving her up.

It's maybe two months in before there's some charity thing. There's always some charity thing, but this one is hosted by Justin Hammer, and Tony remembers vaguely that he might be intending to reward Tony for something, which is the type of silly shit Justin Hammer does to make himself look magnanimous. If he's trying to be magnanimous, then he's hurting for money; if he's hurting for money, then he's going to bug the shit out of Tony about some business venture that is incredibly stupid but which he and Obadiah will have to talk the board out of.

He actually takes the time to specifically RSVP and say no after the whole thing has been announced and covered by the media, just as a very personal fuck you to that little asshole. He forgets about it entirely until the appointed night, until he's in bed with Pepper, just getting ready to get down to business.

Then he gets a glorious, horrible idea.

"JARVIS," he says, disentangling himself from her and pulling his pants back on. "Is my tux clean?"

"Yes, sir," the AI replies, and Tony can hear the whirring in the closet as it cycles to the front of his clothing.

She sits up, looking at him quizzically. "Tony?" 

"Get dressed," he says. "We're going out."

\--

The flashbulbs erupt like crazy when he steps out of the limo at the benefit; he knows no one who knew the first thing about him actually expected him to show. He gives Pepper his hand, helping her out of the car, and if he thought that was bad, then he was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Smile and nod," he tells her, waving at the cameras. He puts his arm around her, his hand on her opposite hip, far too low to be appropriate. Honestly, he's already stuck it to Hammer and they're not even in the same building yet. He lets himself be led through the grand foyer and up to the party, which is already in full, boring swing. Almost instantly he's recognized, swept off into a sea of back-patters and my-dear-boy-ers, and he now remembers precisely why he never goes to these things, even for the comedy value. 

He keeps Pepper by his side through it, keeping a hand on her at all times, usually inappropriately low on her body. Pepper is wearing what she showed up to his house in, which, well, it's not exactly appropriate for a fancy soiree, about two feet too short and cut almost down to her ass in the back. She wears it gracefully anyway, like she doesn't notice at all how inappropriate it is. He already knew how competent she was, but he didn't quite expect this level of grace and poise. People talk to her like they genuinely don't notice either, like she's too classy for it to even matter.

Sexy as hell, just not as fun as anticipated. He didn't want to embarrass _her_ , but he wanted to embarrass the shit out of everyone else.

They eventually get separated, Pepper pulled into one of those chats with the wives that Tony takes an inordinate amount of pleasure in disrupting, but before Tony can go over and be himself at them, someone familiar and annoyed is coming towards him.

Apparently Rhodey's been dragged into this thing too, so Tony at least has someone to talk to, though he's not entirely sure what Rhodey's going to say. In point of fact, Rhodey walks up to him and doesn't say anything, just raises an eyebrow. "What?" Tony says innocently.

"You brought a prostitute," Rhodey says.

"How dare you," Tony says, mock-offended. "She's a perfectly lovely girl."

"She's a perfectly lovely call girl," Rhodey says.

"So you agree she's lovely," Tony says, pouncing on it.

Rhodey sighs. "Tony, what the _hell_."

"Uh, so here's something we haven't talked about," Tony says.

Rhodey rubs his forehead. "You've been seeing a prostitute."

"Raise your voice," he says. "I didn't go to all this trouble to keep people from being aghast."

"You can, have, and do sleep with everything that crosses your path, and you've been hiring a _prostitute_?" Rhodey says, incredulous.

"You're going to say something about buying the cow when the milk is free, but you do _not_ know how high-quality this milk is," Tony tells him.

Rhodey shakes his head. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Suddenly, he spots Justin Hammer himself making his way through the crowd. "Long list," Tony says quickly, patting him on the shoulder before he runs off. This is the only time Tony is ever glad that he's short, because if he just ducks down a little bit, Hammer can't actually see him through everyone else.

He reaches Pepper before Hammer can reach him, though it's a near miss. "Dance with me," he says, holding out his hand, completely ignoring the fact that she's mid-conversation, and she smiles to whoever she's talking to, taking Tony's hand and letting herself be pulled away.

On the dance floor, he works his way to the middle of the crowd and pulls her close, just a shade closer than is appropriate, provocative enough to be shocking but not quite bad enough for anyone to say anything. He gives people insincere smiles as they dance by, generally annoyed by the whole proceedings. "Bringing a call girl to a party was a lot more fun in my head," he says, through his teeth.

Pepper pulls back, giving him a look. "How did you expect this to work?"

"Well, we were both supposed to be a lot more drunk, for starters," he says. "We were supposed to be loud and obnoxious, and people were supposed to recognize you and be scandalized. Then we were supposed to go off and fuck in the coat check room or something and probably be caught on tape." Pepper lifts a very expressive eyebrow. "It made sense to me," he grumbles.

"We can still fuck in the coat check room," Pepper tells him.

"Really?" Tony says hopefully. "Because honestly, that was the best part."

"If it makes you feel any better, half the room does recognize me, but I don't think they're as scandalized as you hoped," Pepper tells him.

"I forbid you from telling me why they recognize you," he orders. "Why shouldn't they be scandalized? I brought a prostitute to a high society function."

"People have been bringing prostitutes to high society functions ever since there was high society," Pepper tells him. "And did you really think people wouldn't expect it coming from you?"

"That's cold," he says. "They could at least do me the courtesy of expecting me to show up with starlets or random drunk girls from the nearest bar."

"That wouldn't have surprised them either," she says, shaking her head. "You're not as surprising as you think."

Tony narrows his eyes at her. "I'll show you surprising." Without warning, he grabs her around the waist and hoists her up, throwing her over his shoulder. "Excuse me, coming through, important business," he says, pushing his way through the crowd.

"Tony!" she squawks, kicking her feet in protest.

"You put me up to this," Tony reminds her.

"I did not!" she insists.

When they pass, Hammer gives him a look that makes him look even more like Kermit the Frog than he usually does. "Great party," Tony says, just to rub it in, walking right by. He carries her past Rhodey, and Rhodey only shakes his head, giving him that 'I am past embarrassment and now am just tired of you' look that he's so very good at. Tony throws him a salute, going on through the foyer, down to the valet; he doesn't put her down until the car actually arrives, depositing her in the back seat and climbing in on top of her.

His arm is sore for hours and Pepper doesn't answer her phone for two days, but it was absolutely worth it.

\--

Whenever Pepper leaves in the morning, she's picked up by someone in a black car; they don't come all the way up to the house, waiting halfway down the driveway for her to come out. Tony's never found an excuse to go out there; he's intensely curious about how this whole thing works, and sooner or later he's going to find an opportunity to know more.

For once when they roll up, Pepper is in the shower, and Tony puts on his dressing gown and goes down to the driveway to finally check these people out. There's a guy waiting; he's not very tall, but he's built, sleeveless black and purple shirt showing off thick arms. He's leaning back against a black towncar, and Tony can just make out a woman through the rolled-down window, maybe a redhead.

Tony sizes him up. "Are you the pimp?"

He shakes his head. "'Fraid not."

"Boyfriend?" Tony tries.

"No," he says, grinning behind his sunglasses. "But for an extra grand, we come as a double act."

Tony tries not to let that image kill him where he stands. "Co-worker."

"I like 'prosti-dude,'" he supplies cheerfully.

"Clint," the woman snaps. "Stop fucking around."

"I'm supposed to stop fucking around," Clint reports, looking at him seriously.

"I feel like that doesn't happen a lot," Tony says.

"Not a good look on me," Clint replies. He looks past Tony, and Tony turns; Pepper is coming up the drive, looking faintly annoyed. "Ready to go, Pep?"

She gives Tony a kiss on the cheek, and he gets the sense he's broken some kind of call girl code he didn't know about; maybe he's just not supposed to see the brains of the operation, not supposed to get more information than he gives. He's not sure why that should matter, not when the possible damage to him is exponentially worse than it would be to anyone who was actually turning people out, but better safe than sorry, he supposes.

Clint holds his hand out, giving Pepper's a little squeeze as he helps her into the car; the woman with the red hair moves quickly to the side, and Tony never gets a look at her face.

"See you tomorrow night?" Tony asks.

"Of course you will," Pepper says, and then Clint shuts the door, the window rolling up. He gives Tony a wink as he gets in on the other side, and the car takes off.

Tony doesn't try and sneak another look. Whatever they're doing, they don't want him too close; his natural curiosity is astounding, but if the choice is between knowing more and possibly losing something he really, really wants to keep, it turns out he'd rather take the keeping over the knowing.

That's new.

\--

He doesn't hear it when Rhodey comes in, doesn't hear anything at all until Rhodey's right behind him. "Hey," he says, loud enough to be heard over the music, and it's only through years of practice that Tony doesn't startle and throw his screwdriver into the air. "How's she coming along?"

"She sucks like a vacuum cleaner and has a scarily good grasp of my personality," Tony says, spinning his chair around to face him. "Either she's a corporate spy or I'm going to marry her."

Rhodey gives him a puzzled look. "What?"

"What?" Tony asks.

"I was talking about the Chevy," Rhodey says.

"Oh," Tony says. "I wasn't."

Rhodey looks uncomfortable. "Are you still seeing that-"

"Well I'm not fucking the Chevy," Tony says, suddenly irritable.

"I didn't come here just to tell you that it's not right," Rhodey says carefully.

"You don't think it's right," Tony says.

"No, I don't," Rhodey says resolutely. "But if I ran around trying to stop you from doing everything I thought wasn't right, I'd never have time to do anything else."

"You're an asshole," Tony says, but he smiles. Rhodey doesn't; he's still giving Tony that 'hmph' look. "Come on, come on, get it off your chest if you're going to, don't drag it out."

"Look," Rhodey says, and he stops, constructing careful words in that way he does. "When I was a little kid, another boy gave me fifty cents and an eraser to be his friend. My parents made me give the money back. You know why? Because I had no intention of staying friends with that kid unless he had more erasers. Because you can't buy friends. All they'll want is more and more from you."

"Rhodey, do you know what my net worth is?" Tony says lightly. "I can _absolutely_ buy friends."

"That doesn't mean their friendship is genuine," Rhodey insists. "You can't let yourself get sucked into that. You'll only get attached, and they'll only leave."

He takes Rhodey by the hand, putting his own over it and looking up at him sincerely. "When I was a little kid, my mother said to me, 'Tony, you can't buy happiness, but you can buy marshmallows, which are pretty much the same thing.'"

Rhodey takes his hand away. "You read that on a bumper sticker."

"That doesn't make it less true," Tony argues. "I love that you're worried about whether or not I'm genuinely happy rather than the fact that the marshmallows are highly illegal."

"You're changing the subject," Rhodey says, frowning.

"I don't want to talk about the subject," Tony says, aware that he might be whining. "I want to be happy with my marshmallows, and I want you to come help me with the Chevy."

Rhodey purses his lips. "The Chevy I don't have a problem with."

Tony claps his hands; he knows the conversation's far from over, but if he can get Rhodey to shelve it for a while, that's a victory. "Good. Excellent. Then let's get started."

Rhodey gives him a less than happy look, but he slips his jacket off, setting it on an out of the way workbench. "Where are we today?"

Tony pulls up the schematics, stretching them out, and they trace arguments in the air.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony really is remarkably happy, in the truest sense of the word; he is happy enough that he wants to remark upon it, to tell people what's going on in his life, a thing that he doesn't do unless it will make them clutch their pearls in horror.

The weirdest thing about it is that he's doing so much less to invoke pearl-clutching lately. He could be up until 4 AM chasing random girls around- which he still does from time to time, just to keep his hand in, lest the media think he's died- or he could pick up the phone and be up until 4 AM fucking a gorgeous woman who already knows exactly what he wants, and then some. Bonus: she's signed enough NDAs and knows enough about his everything that if he happens to want workshop head in the middle of the night, he can damn well get it.

Tony loves workshop head. It is one of the most underappreciated joys in life.

Pepper has slotted into his life so neatly, so completely, like she was always supposed to be there, meant to fill a gap he didn't even know existed. This is the most mature, stable thing he's ever been in, ever; there is something weirdly Tony about the fact that it is a relationship with someone who shows up, fucks him, and goes home. No pressure, no strings, no lies.

Except for the lies, it's Tony all over.

He isn't quite sure how deep he is in, though, until the afternoon when it changes, goes down the road he didn't expect it to go down, the one he knew in the back of his mind they were always moving towards.

He finds her in the hallway with Obadiah, and that's enough to make him raise an eyebrow; he hasn't gotten quite into their line of sight, and he stays out of the way, peering around a column to see what's up.

He can see the very careful position she's taken up, the way her shoulder and hip are out so that her entire back isn't towards the wall; it's kind of unsettling to watch, reminds him that this situation they've got going on isn't exactly typical. Obadiah isn't going so far as to touch her, but he is leaning in close, smiling that 'you can trust me' smile that he always uses when he's trying to convince someone to do something they don't want to do. There's a sudden flare of jealousy in Tony's chest, but he shoves it away; jealousy has gotten him precisely nowhere ever. "I'm happy to pay as much as you want," Obadiah says. "I'm not looking for anything long-term, mind you, and I wouldn't get in the way of the thing you've got going on with Tony. Just a night or two here and there."

"I'm sorry, but I have an exclusive contract with Mister Stark," she says, smiling, polite but aloof.

"That's just too bad," Obadiah says, having the good grace not to look defeated or upset. "You know where to find me if the situation changes." He holds out his hand, and she takes it; they actually shake on it, which might be the strangest thing Tony has ever seen.

Tony waits for him to leave before he sidles up to her. "Since when do we have an exclusive contract?" he asks.

"Since when does Mister Stane want to hire me?" she hisses.

"Since forever, probably," Tony says, trying to sound unconcerned when he is really incredibly concerned. "Who wouldn't want to hire you?" He stops, feeling nervous all of a sudden about what he's about to say, which is, of course, ridiculous- it's just that knowing that doesn't stop it. "Exclusivity is not a bad idea."

She looks at him, sizing him up. "I get a per-month flat rate, plus ten thousand down. I'm moving in, and I get my own bedroom and unrestricted access to the motor pool."

"Done," Tony says firmly.

Pepper blinks. "That was fast."

He puts his hands on her hips, pulling her close. "That is the last time I ever want to be fast with you."

"That's a bald-faced lie," she says.

"Okay, that's the last time I want to be fast with you that doesn't involve hard fucking against walls and or in inappropriate places," Tony allows.

"That's better," she says.

"Speaking of which," Tony says, guiding her back towards the wall, avoiding the overpriced painting that's hanging behind her.

"Right here?" Pepper says, sounding unusually prudish; then again, she's just gotten a come-on from Obadiah, and Tony's not sure he'd be in the mood either.

"Shut the doors, JARVIS," Tony says, and hidden pocket doors slide out, sealing the hallway. He wouldn't even bother, except for the fact that Obadiah is somewhere in the building. He didn't even know Obadiah wanted a taste, but he absolutely fucking does not get one. "My house, my rules, my wall."

"Tony," she says, but by then he's got his hand up her skirt, his fingers rubbing her through her panties, and whatever complaint she might have is lost in a gasp. She shuts her eyes, her head falling back, mouth open, and it's gorgeous, but it's not good enough.

"Look at me," he says, low and urgent, tilting her chin down. "Look at me, Pepper."

She opens her eyes; they're hazy and bright and just like he's memorized, perfect. He can't take his own off her, trying to keep her gaze even while he's fumbling around trying to get ready. He unzips his pants, pushing them down, reaching into his pocket for a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling it on, throwing the package blindly away. He grabs her by the thighs and hoists her up, settling her legs around his waist; her panties are little flimsy things, and it's nothing to just pull them out of the way, get rid of the only thing left to separate them.

That first press inside of her, that delicious feeling, it's just like it always is and it's nothing like it at all, is something brand new, startling. He fucks her hard and fast, his hands on her hips tight enough that she might have bruises; that doesn't matter now, doesn't matter at all, because nobody else gets to see. He tells himself he's not taking what's happened out on her, and maybe that's true or maybe it isn't. What's true is that he needs the reminder, the confirmation number, the proof that she's his and only his and nobody else's, just as long as the check clears- and Tony will never, ever let it bounce.

It's quick but so satisfying, exactly what Tony needed at this moment, exactly how he wanted it. "You're a gem," he tells her, kissing her briefly. Pepper just looks at him like he is the strangest man on the planet; Tony gets that look a lot, but he doesn't even care. "Tell me when and where, and I'll have someone pick up your stuff."

"I'll arrange it," she says.

"Of course you will," he says, kissing her again. "I don't think I could stop you."

\--

It's Friday morning, and Tony is up unusually early- okay, what actually happened was that he hasn't really been to bed yet, except for a nap around two, but the result is the same. He's sitting up in bed, dicking around on his laptop, Pepper asleep next to him; the sheets have slipped down, revealing miles of pale skin, and he's just about to wake her back up when JARVIS breaks in. "A call for you from Colonel Rhodes, sir," he says quietly.

"Mute it," he says, running a finger along her hip.

"He has entered his override code, sir."

Tony sighs, reaching for the earpiece by the side of the bed and putting it on. "I want this to be really, _really_ important, Rhodey, I really do, because otherwise, I'm going to have to-"

"Put some fucking clothes on," Rhodey snaps, and Tony is taken aback. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

It's not particularly like Rhodey to be anything but level-headed; if Rhodey is pissed enough at him that he sounds like that, Tony is truly in for it.

Despite his misgivings, Tony pulls on some pants and a shirt and heads to the lounge, pouring himself a drink before he sits down to wait. He doesn't wait long at all; Rhodey said ten, but it's more like five before he comes storming in, looking generally like the wrath of God made flesh. He's got a copy of Time magazine in his hand, and he throws it down on the ottoman in front of Tony. "Read it."

Tony picks it up, looking at the glass of scotch on the front cover, blah blah addiction blah. "You got me out of bed for an intervention? You couldn't do this to me after I'd actually had a drink?"

"Don't fuck with me today, Stark," Rhodey says, and Tony frowns in concern, flipping the magazine open to the marker.

"It is absolute bullshit that I got bumped from the cover for booze," he mutters, skimming the article. "That or it's absolutely appropriate." He keeps looking, trying to remember if he even remembers giving this interview; he vaguely recalls sitting down with some guy last month, but he was one of those with the 'hard-hitting' questions that could be answered by anyone with a copy of his company's most recent prospectus. He gets to the end of the article and pokes around the next few pages, seeing nothing. "What am I supposed to see here?"

Rhodey snatches the magazine away from him. "They asked you point blank if you were dating a hooker," he says, holding up the magazine and jabbing his finger at a paragraph. "They said to your face that there were allegations, and you said- let me quote this to you- you said, 'And?'"

 _Now_ Tony remembers. Or at least, he's pretty sure he remembers; it's one he showed up drunk to, so he might have said anything. "What did you want me to say?"

"I wanted you to not get yourself into this situation in the first place," Rhodey says. "I wanted you to act right for once in your life."

"You're going to be wanting for a very long time, Rhodey," Tony says. "Do you think this is the first completely damning article I've had published about me? This isn't the first one this _month_. It'll die down, same as every time."

"This one's not going away, and even if the media forgets, _I'm_ sure as hell not going to." Rhodey shakes his head angrily. "Tony, you can't keep a human being for a pet and expect people to be okay with that."

Tony narrows his eyes. "Why don't you go right now and call her a pet to her face?" he says angrily. "Better if she knows exactly what you think of her."

"I'll let you do it," he says coldly. "For as much as you pay, you can call her anything you want."

"I think you should go," Tony says, his jaw clenching.

"I think I should," Rhodey tells him, and he turns and walks out.

Tony sits back, running his hands through his hair. He's had worse conversations, but not in recent memory, not with Rhodey. Rhodey has sort of a baseline disapproval of Tony, a level that he works from; on your average day he thinks Tony isn't living right, but that he's a decent person when all is said and done. Even when Tony is out drinking and figuratively whoring every night, Rhodey still has a certain respect for him, even through the eye-rolling and put-upon sighs. But now, Tony has fallen far, far in Rhodey's estimation, maybe even bottomed out, and it hurts a whole lot worse than Tony thought it was going to.

He goes back to bed, pulling off his clothes and climbing in beside Pepper; she's still asleep, migrated towards the empty space he left in the bed. She makes a noise of contentment as he settles in next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her close. He doesn't sleep for a long time; when he finally does, he wakes up to find that she's folded his shirt and pants and made lunch, his favorite. He eats it ravenously and fucks her across the table for dessert, but he still feels absolutely like hell. She frets over him, putting him back in bed and ordering him not to get out of it; he sleeps again, but he doesn't feel any better.

He wonders how she feels. He wonders why he never wondered before.

\--

Tony actually is a CEO, he actually does do some work around here, and he actually does have an office. This seems like the kind of thing he's supposed to do in an office; he has a proposition of the unsexy variety for Pepper, and it doesn't seem right to have this discussion post-coitally or over drinks.

Also, gonna need a notary if it works. Tony's not sure where he can find a notary that he wants to fuck at this hour.

Pepper, being Pepper, is dressed like there's no doubt in the world that she's supposed to be in an office, wearing a light gray skirt suit with a- the ruffly hip thing, a peplum, he thinks it might be called- that alternately makes her look like a corporate maven of the highest order and like Tony should fuck her immediately.

"Have a seat," he says when she walks in, indicating the chair across from his desk.

"Have you come to talk to me about my job performance?" she says, sitting down and crossing her long legs gracefully in front of her. She sounds amused, and Tony almost gives up right then, almost says something about how she's a very bad girl who needs to bend over and stay there until he can find a ruler, because there's got to be one in the credenza somewhere.

"I want to talk to you about changing jobs," he says, and her face goes blank, receptive but completely cryptic. He really, really hates that look; he's never actually gotten it from her before, because he pays her obscene amounts of money to be up for anything, but it's never gone his way when other people gave it to him.

"I'm listening," she says.

"I need a personal assistant," he tells her, and she looks at him in confusion. "I mean, you already assist me pretty personally, but you don't pick up my dry cleaning."

"You don't pay me to pick up your dry cleaning," she tells him.

"The dry cleaning's not the point. Well, it is, but- don't change the subject," Tony says, waving his hands. "The point is, I don't actually need your primary services. If I wanted girls, I could have as many as I could fit in my car." Pepper's eyebrow ticks ever so slightly upwards. "Look, I can handle my dick. I need someone to handle my _life_."

"I'm fairly sure the money's better in handling your anatomy," she says.

"I love it when you talk dirty, but now is not the time," he tells her.

"Tony, you're the CEO of a major weapons manufacturer," Pepper reminds him. "Everything I know about business I know from reading the Wall Street Journal and overhearing your phone calls."

"That makes you leaps and bounds beyond the dumbfucks I have to deal with on a daily basis," he tells her. "I need you to keep me from coming apart, Pepper. Nobody does it like you."

She gives him an unhappy look. "Tony, as much as you probably need it, I can't just-"

"Every time I leave you alone for five minutes, I catch you doing something efficient," he says. "You already know everything there is to know about me. It wouldn't be that different from what you're doing now, but you wouldn't have to sleep with me." He pauses. "But _please_ sleep with me," he begs.

"I want to get this straight," she says, and he knows from her voice that she's not exactly happy with him. "You're asking me to take on a harder job for less money, while still doing what I already do."

He frowns at her. "It sounds terrible when _you_ say it." Tony looks her in the eye. "You don't have to be my whore. You can be better than that."

"I understand how it looks," she tells him, and she sounds tired, like she knew it would come to this eventually, like it's a chore. "I know all about trying to be respectable and on-the-level, I really do. I know I'm supposed to want to be saved from my profession and go straight, and if I were in any other situation, I know that I would." The corner of her mouth curls up. "But I live in a mansion with a billionaire who, even while he's a little bit of a mess and acts like an asshole half the time, secretly in his heart is a pretty good guy. I don't even think he'd run me off if I _didn't_ sleep with him, which is good, because I don't want to leave. If I did, he wouldn't last five minutes without me." She shakes her head. "I have everything I could possibly want, at least for now. You're not saving me from anything."

Tony says nothing for a long time.

He sits back, slapping his palms lightly against the arms of his chair. "Bank transfer should go through on the third."

"Right on time," she says, smiling. Her expression turns dirty. "Anything else I can get you, Mister Stark?"

He looks around. "Office blowjob?"

She stands up, walking over and sinking to her knees in front of him. "That can be arranged."


	4. Chapter 4

A lot of things happen very quickly and with excruciating slowness.

He spends a regrettable amount of time dying in a cave in Afghanistan. He invents the Iron Man out of scrap metal and desperation. They bring him back, and he fucks his company over royally, accidentally on purpose. He finally does attain a PA. The man who is his second father turns his back on him and tries to kill him. Tony's PA helps save his life and then quits on the spot. Tony becomes a superhero. A large man with an eye patch breaks into his house in the middle of the night to tell him that superheroes aren't even _surprising_.

It's eventful, to say the least, and he does not see Pepper the entire time.

Maybe it doesn't matter; maybe he needs to be working on other things, on the things that have been forcibly brought to his attention over the last few months, things that are bigger than him, bigger than them, bigger than what he used to have with some chick who only liked him because his money was green.

Not that he's bitter.

He talks to Rhodey a lot these days, more than he used to, calling him at odd hours, knowing that nine times out of ten, he can play the 'liaising with Stark Industries' card and get away with it. Rhodey's still at the state where he'll forgive Tony pretty much anything if it makes Tony seem like he feels better. Tony kind of hates kid gloves, but at the same time, he appreciates the consideration. In his life, he hasn't been shown a lot of it- if he wants frightened, gold-digging deference, he can have as much of that as he wants, but this is a different thing, a friend thing.

They don't speak about her. He suspects Rhodey would be perfectly happy to never bring it up again, chalk it up to the person Tony used to be, the one he was before his eyes opened, the one they both know he will never be again. Tony just doesn't want to talk about it because it hurts too much. Either way, it works.

He can't sleep again, so he's in the workshop, fiddling with things that need fiddling, trying to build something better, bigger, more meaningful, working out the problems he finds every instant, a constant stream in his head. Suddenly he hears the door slide open, and he looks up in alarm, reaching out to get a grip on the nearest, heaviest blunt object he can find. "Miss Pepper," JARVIS announces, and Tony freezes. There she is, just standing there, the light of the workshop surrounding her; she must have done something to herself while he was gone, because he's pretty sure she was never that beautiful.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't letting anyone in," he says gruffly. Maybe he hasn't slept enough; maybe she's just a hallucination.

She takes a few steps towards him. "Rhodey snuck me in the back. He said you needed to see me."

Tony looks down at the wrench in his hands. "I didn't tell him that."

"Maybe not, but that's what he said," she says.

"You look good," he tells her.

"Thank you." She's walking towards him, and he doesn't move to stop her, just sets the wrench down out of the way. She's right in his space now, and she lays her hand over his heart, just to the side of the reactor, and goddammit, he can't, he just can't do anything but pull her tight against him, kissing her hard. 

"Take me to bed," she says quietly, and Tony can't imagine doing anything else.

He doesn't know if this is a free one or not, but he knows that if he says anything, the whole thing will be ruined. If a bill shows up on his doorstep, he'll gladly pay it, no matter how much it's for, but right now he doesn't even come close to giving a fuck. He takes her hand and leads her upstairs, laying her out on the bed and kissing her until he's breathless, until he just can't anymore, until he has nothing else to give.

When they make love, it's slow, not a sound except for the rhythm of their bodies, skin against skin. He buries his face in her neck, smelling her skin, that scent he's dreamed about for so long and thought he'd never experience again, just like everything about her. Slowly, one by one, he's losing and regaining the things that he had before he was captured, learning to negotiate his new life, start it from square one; he expected this to be something that was gone for good, but now that it's come back to him, he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to bring himself to give it up, doesn't know whether or not losing it again will break him.

He doesn't have tears on his face, because that would be unthinkable. Surely it's just sweat.

When it's over, she lays her head down on his shoulder, turned towards him, her hand on his stomach, avoiding the reactor. He's still not sure if he can bring himself to let anyone touch it so casually yet, and somehow she knows that; she's always known him.

He brushes a lock of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Pepper-"

"Virginia," she says.

"What?" Tony says, confused.

"My real name is Virginia," she tells him.

He looks her over. "It doesn't suit you."

"I know," she says. "I've been Pepper since I was three. It just seemed like a good time."

He kisses her softly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," she tells him.

"I don't want to have to miss you anymore," he says, and she looks at him curiously. "I came back to the house and you weren't there, and-" He shakes his head. "It didn't exactly feel great. I understand if you had to get work, you've got to eat-"

"Tony," she says. "Do you know how much money you've given me, total?"

"No idea," he admits freely.

"I do," she tells him. "I won't have to work again for a very, very long time. When you- while you were gone, Mister Stane suggested it was in everyone's best interests if I moved out."

Tony's face hardens. "That's not what he suggested at all."

"No, it's not," she says. "So I moved out. I wanted to be here when you got back, but it just didn't happen that way."

"Who knows what would have happened if it did," Tony says. He sighs. "I hate to say this, but we need to have the State of the Union address."

"Tony," she says carefully. "I'm glad to see you, but this isn't a relationship."

"You are so great at so many things, but you are a really shitty liar," he tells her, and her face says everything that Tony suspects. "If you don't have to work, then I don't have to pay you. If you stick around, then that makes it a relationship. You can move in with me and be my girlfriend. Done."

"This isn't the seventh grade," she says, sitting up. "You're asking me to check yes or no, but it's not that simple-"

"In what way, exactly, is it not that simple?" Tony says, annoyed by all this, the pretense that should be over by now. "Do you need to break your lease? I'll pay for it. Do you build boats in your basement? I'll get you a whole workshop for it. Do you have a cat to get back to? Because-" He stops. "Well, actually, you can't have a cat, but we'll find a nice family for it."

"I have a dog," she says.

Tony gives her a look. "Is it one of those little purse dogs?"

"It's a rescue greyhound," she tells him.

"A greyhound we can handle," he says. "Classy dog. Doesn't shed much. Fit in perfectly here."

She sighs, sounding tired. "Tony, you can't possibly expect-"

"I can expect," he says. "I do expect. I expect all the time. That is a fact you know about me. I have expectations. For you, maybe I could expect less." He looks down, not wanting to see her face, not wanting her to see his. "Maybe you could just stay with me. If you wanted."

There's a long, tense pause. "I'm not breaking my lease," she tells him.

"Who says you can't have two houses?" Tony says, his heart unlocking. "Everybody has two houses. You can have six if you want."

"I don't need six houses, Tony," she says, laying back down beside him.

"It's probably a bad idea anyway," he says. "Invariably, what you're looking for at any moment will be at another house."

"Why do I get the feeling you know this from experience?" she says, putting her head on his shoulder.

"It should be more than a feeling at this point," he tells her.

"Don't sing, Tony," she says, cutting him off.

"You're no fun anymore," he says, turning towards her and kissing her. "But I like you anyway."


End file.
